


Bittersweet

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Age Difference, Ambiguity, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Bitterness, Crushes, Horny Teenager, Kissing, Loneliness, Lust, M/M, Memories, Missing Scene, Moral Ambiguity, One-Sided Attraction, Past Relationship(s), Reflection, Rough Kissing, Self-Reflection, Slash, Teen Angst, Touching, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Izaya reflects on his past. Sort of.





	Bittersweet

From his hidden spot above them, Izaya watches the three of them clown around. How sweet. And how delicious that each one of them thinks they're _so_ special, that they were the only ones with secrets. He hopes they enjoy themselves. At this rate, it'll be one of the last nice memories they have together.

He’s bitter. He can’t help himself. Even as he’s smiling, he feels the bitterness like bile in the back of his throat. Stupid. Just because _he_ didn’t have a happy childhood of piggybacks and play-wrestling, _he_ didn’t have anyone to put up with his personality to such an extent, he shouldn’t begrudge it of them. Really. He should just let it go and leave them alone.

They keep walking and jostling until they're out of his line of vision, and he doesn’t bother changing his position to watch them go. He rests his arms on the wall and rests his head on his arms. He’s melancholy now. He hasn’t come here since school, where he would hide from or taunt Shizuo, depending on his mood. He shouldn’t have come. 

He hears someone behind him then and stiffens. It could be anything from a squirrel, to Shizuo with murder in his eyes and a street sign in hand. He lifts his head, and it is neither. It is Masaomi.

Izaya smiles at him.

“Hello, Masaomi.”

It is supposed to be snide, but some of his mood escapes in his voice. He sighs at his own ineptitude.

Masaomi is frowning, but the influence of his friends is still lingering, and it carries less of the anger and bitterness it normally does.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nothing.” This is true, but he deliberately smirks and lets Masaomi worry about it and think the worse.

Masaomi keeps looking at him, and his frown wavers. He comes forward, looking more uncertain the closer his gets. Izaya just waits passively, thinking he must be building up to what he thinks will be a terribly cutting threat.

When he’s close enough, however, he stops for a moment, breathes in and presses his lips to Izaya’s.

Izaya stays completely still, out of shock.

When Masaomi draws back, his golden eyes are wide and soft, and lacking the horror of realisation they should be filling with.

Izaya leans back to put some distance between them, and tilts his head questioningly.

“Did you do that for a bet?”

“No.”

He leans in to fill the space Izaya’s created between them, leaning between Izaya legs, and he smells of warm honey and summer. Izaya puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

“You’re 17,” he says. “What do you think I am?”

“I’m 18 now.”

“Oh, that’s all right, then.”

The sarcasm seems to go over his head.

“Do you like Mikado?”

“What?”

This is so out of the blue, he’s too shocked to take advantage of it and play along. Which is a shame, because it would have been hilarious. He rolls his eyes.

“Just so we’re clear, Masaomi, I don’t have feelings for you or for any of your little friends. I wasn’t perving on you from up here, if that’s what you think.”

“I know," he says, surprisingly. "This is where you used to come to get away from Shizuo.”

“So?”

“I’m 18," he repeats.

“I don’t really care.”

“Haven’t _you_ ever been with someone older than you?”

Izaya tenses then. He’s sure Masaomi doesn’t know anything about him, that he's just hit lucky with that particular remark, but it’s a score against him anyway. He shifts under Masaomi's gaze.

“That’s different.”

“Why?” Masaomi leans into his space again, and he makes only a half hearted attempt to move back. “Because you were so mature and clever, it was all right for you and it’s not for me?”

“It…wasn’t a mature and clever thing to do,” Izaya says slowly. He tips his head away to avoid Masaomi’s lips.

Masaomi’s eyes widen a little, and Izaya thinks for a moment he will pull away.

“And what about Saki?” Izaya adds, to encourage him.

“What about her?”

He finds himself smiling at this.

“Good answer.”

He lets Masaomi kiss him again as a reward. Even puts a hand on his back to encourage him, teaches him how to do it properly when he feels the boy open his mouth.

“Oh.” Masaomi breathes a little sigh, and lets himself almost fall onto Izaya’s lap, who snakes an arm round his waist to hold him there.

He knows Masaomi is lonely and unwanted, realises that Masoami can see these qualities in him as well, knows it keeps Masaomi from hating him completely. That he’s curious and has too much energy than he knows what to do with.

Izaya kisses the teenager again, pulling on his lower lip with his teeth to tease him, feeling him shiver from barely-there touches before letting him go.

“Go home, Masaomi,” he says into his mouth.

“Why are you like this?” he whines, without moving away. “Why won’t you give me anything?”

“This is me being generous, Masaomi, believe me.”

“Fuck off.”

Izaya’s eyes narrow, and he lets his hands slide off the boy. Masaomi almost looks guiltily, but he holds his own and looks into the informant’s eyes defiantly. Izaya’s surprised at what he sees there, the genuine want that isn’t just spur-of-the-moment frustration.

“Well,” Izaya says lazily. “I had no idea. I thought you hated me.”

“I do,” he says, but he doesn't sound certain, like he’s thinking about it for the first time.

Izaya shifts back again, and Masaomi takes the hint and stands, taking the informant’s hands for balance. Izaya keeps hold of him once he’s up, moving to stroke the baby skin of his wrists.

“Off you go, then.”

Masaomi’s eyes narrow.

“How old do I have to be, then?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why?”

Izaya doesn’t bother answering him. He keeps stroking his arms. He wants to see what he will do.

Masaomi yanks his wrists free.

“Fine.”

His face is starting to burn now, the humiliation sinking in, and he frowns to hide it, clearly furious with himself. Izaya almost feels sorry for him.

“Don’t feel so bad,” Izaya tells him. “That was a brave thing to do. Braver than I ever was.”

Masaomi looks at him curiously, some of the anger fading, but Izaya keeps his own features neutral, not giving away whether he’s being sincere or not.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Izaya’s own eyes narrow with amusement.

“Oh, I don’t hate you, Masaomi,” he says. He threads his fingers through blonde hair. “No-one does. You’re far too insignificant.”

He flinches at this.

“Great.”

Izaya keeps his hand where it is, tempted for a moment, before thinking better of it and taking it away.

“See you around, Masaomi. Give my regards to Saki.”

Masaomi’s eyes flash again then. It’s the last thing Izaya sees before his head crashes against the wall behind him, Masaomi’s lips on his own. He holds Izaya’s wrists at either side of him, pressing his full weight down in Izaya’s lap, and it is _so cute_ , like a bunny rabbit baring its teeth.

It is also, he has to admit, rather good.

“Mm. Masaomi.” He jerks a wrist free with no effort, and cups the back of the boy’s head. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“No.” He leans forward to nuzzle Izaya’s hair, and his voice is hot in his ear. “There’s no point. Nothing impresses you.”

“Now that’s not true.”

He wrenches his other hand free and slips it up Masaomi’s shirt, immediately finding one of his nipples, the gentleness of it making him groan and buck into the informant’s lap.

“Izaya,” he whines. He winds his arms around Izaya and holds on. “Why can’t you-  “

The hand stroking his hair turns into a fist and jerks his head back, and Izaya leans in to brush his lips against the skin there. He can feel Masaomi against his thigh, feels him practically shaking with the effort of keeping still, in case he puts Izaya off from whatever it is he’s doing.

“I’ve sunk to a new low today, thanks to you.” Izaya muses. “Well done.”

Masaomi gives a weak groan and wriggles into his lap more firmly, keeps wriggling when he finds friction against Izaya’s thigh. Izaya shifts his legs slightly to make it easier for him, leaning back and loosening his grip on the blonde hair, while Masaomi adjusts his angle and focusses on this new pleasure source. It lasts only a few more seconds before he is clinging to Izaya with everything he has, mewling and nuzzling and shaking. Izaya holds him through it and strokes his back and hair, bringing him back down.

“Oh, God.” He’s still shaking. “I’m sorry.”

Izaya laughs and ruffles his hair.

He draws back, slowly, unsteady on his feet. His face really is crimson now, and he makes no attempt to hide it. Izaya keeps his hands under his elbows until he can stand by himself.

“Bye, Masaomi,” he says, and Masaomi’s golden eyes flash with something that could almost be sadness. He turns so Izaya can’t see it, and doesn’t look back.

Izaya puts his feet up and waits for his heart to slow. Musing on the situation, he wonders whether what he had done had been the right thing or not. He decides it falls somewhere in the middle.


End file.
